Room 112
by dontmissasinglesunrise
Summary: Katniss winds up at the wrong apartment door by what she is led to believe is an accident, but was actually schemed all along. What happens in Room 112 is for you and Katniss to decide , was it a nightmarish experience or one of fantasy?
1. Chapter 1: Just Relax

Disclaimer: I did not create the characters from the Hunger Games. This is a fan fiction that I've included some of those characters in.

Warning : this contains sexual content and explores the psychology of abuse victims and how it affects their sexuality

Plot Summary: Katniss is locked in an apartment with a seemingly friendly stranger with good looks and quite the charisma. However he turns out to be someone much more sinister and the simple mishap of her "accidentally" being given the wrong apartment number turns out to be not such an accident after all. Only once they are locked in together does Katniss find out what a freak this dude really is.

The nightmares still come. I've gone to countless therapists trying to figure out everything that really happened in that apartment building. But the answers only come to me in snippets every now and then. In my sleep, mostly. When I come thrashing about, it disrupts any attempt to gather the missing pieces and despite the trauma they bring, I find myself almost disappointed. I want to understand myself. Sometimes I find myself ashamed for wanting to know. Even my boyfriend Gale, is not always the most understanding. He'd never say so, but sometimes I think he suspects I enjoyed the dark things that happened in Room 112.

I can't say I blame him. His thoughts are the same as what every one else suspects. Even the paid professionals in my life suggest this as I lay on my back in their extravagant couches talking about my feelings as they write notes. Even I wonder these things myself. I'm not sure what my friend Madge thinks as she sips on her venti iced black tea. "Slurp on that any harder and you'll get a brain freeze." She rolls her eyes. "Not from iced tea." I roll my eyes back. "Oh right, how dare I suggest such a thing would happen from your precious Starbucks." I'm convinced Dunkin Donuts has better to offer, but this probably has more to do with my dislike of coffee and obsession with sugar.

"So any update on the court case?" I look down. Oh. So we"re talking about that again. "Not that I know of. Not anything my lawyer has bothered to tell me." I'm not sure why I say it this way, I've got a damn good lawyer. But maybe not damn good enough. "Well I hope he rots in jail kitty." I flinch. She used my old nickname. The one I used to find endearing and now brings a sour taste in my mouth. Him. "Hey cheer up babe. What do you say we swing by Dunkin?" I smirk a little. "Yeah that sounds good." I say pushing my chair in. I still don't look up though. I'm not sure why.

. . .

After a good and cozy girls night in, Madge goes home to leave me to my own devices. I'm glad she doesn't suggest a sleep over like old times. Madge was always good at understanding when someone just needs space. Even though my therapists suggests otherwise, as isolation leads to depression and yada yada ya. Every once in a while it's nice to be by myself. So I can resume my old guilty pleasure.

Digging up repressed memories.

ive learned the best way to do so is to relax. Put yourself in a state of relaxation. At the moment this consists of me soaking in the tub with lavender scented bath salts and tobacco pipe scented candles lit all around me. The lights dimmed. And then my brain fades into nothingness. Until I'm back into Room 112.


	2. Chapter 2: bathtub flashback

Chapter 2: the flashback

warning: sexual content and abuse content

Its dark and wet. My hands find a hard time gripping the slippery porcelain. My head falls back, into his chest as he roughly grabs my breast, as his other hand slips down through the water to find my clit. Yet the only thing I seem to make myself aware of is my braid coiling and uncoiling around his neck. Never seeming to find a grip, as I struggle with the same thing. As he moves me with his touches, I find myself struggling to stay above water. My skin pebbles from the cold as the water has long lost its heat. My bottom bounces against the surface. One always does feel ten times lighter under the water.

All of a sudden his hands move to my rib cage, searching for something. Once I feel my fluttering pulse against his callous fingertips I realize it's my heart beat. He wants to know how hard my heart is pounding. Well that shouldn't be too hard since I feel it's about to fly out of my chest. He holds me against him for a few seconds in what I suppose is meant to be a hug, and then I feel his body weight lifting away from mine as the water sloshes over me. Before he gets out, he lifts me up as if I can't stand up myself. Which to be honest, I probably can't quite at the moment. He has to help me out of the tub since not only is it dark in here, but I have on a blindfold.

i stand naked and shivering as I wait to be given a towel. Water drips slowly and torturously off my skin in cold wet drops. I'm freezing to death but I don't dare complain. I can barely conjure the brain cells to anyway. It's like I'm in a state of hypnosis of sorts. I wrap my arms around myself to try and bring some warmth into me, and to provide myself some sort of comfort. How much time passes I'm not sure, but he finally comes back. He always comes back.

I have to repeat this to myself to keep from going insane. Except I don't feel the cotton fibers of a towel against my skin. No, I feel the harshness of a rope tying around my wrists, and then I'm lifted a few inches off the ground as he ties those ropes binding my hands together to a cold metal rack above my head. A towel rack? Except it seems so high up. Once I'm securely tied up he lets go and I feel my stomach drop from fear of not knowing how high up my feet dangle. Not knowing if he'll catch me if I fall, or if he will cruelly watch as my limbs fall into a mess on the floor. My butt doesn't touch the wall, so the rack must be far away from the wall. Or I've just gotten thinner. Finally, he pats me down with a towel.

There are no words. Just movements, his hands on my body the only sort of communication I have. I'm terrified when he's here, but I'm more terrified when he leaves. When he leaves the world is silent dull and gray. When he is here at least I know it won't be dull. I am numb. I feel used up inside and out, like a wet rag after being ringed out and hung out to dry. I suppose that is not much different than the position I find myself in currently. Except he is not even close to being done with me.

First he squeezes both of my breasts and then he works his way down, kissing from between my cleavage down past my belly button and then between my folds. When his tongue reaches out, gliding over my slit, I cry out. At first I'm afraid I'll be punished for making a sound and start to hold my breath, but then he notices my fear and kisses me on the mouth to reassure me. I'm surprised by this form of tenderness but have no time to reflect as I'm distracted by the new sensation of his lips sucking on my clit. One more stroke of his tongue and I know I'll shatter. His hand caresses my ass and then he grips it as he sucks harder, with his tongue ever gentle. And then I feel myself rise to a climax until I finally crumble, like putty in his hands. He unties the rope when I'm still climaxing and the temporary feeling of bliss is interrupted by my abrupt fall on the floor. Even though so far, I've been strong, this suddenly hurts more than anything and I find myself tucking my knees into my chest while I sob silently. What did I do wrong this time to deserve this?

Why does he pleasure me in ways I didn't know possible and then punish me for it? I continue to sob endlessly. And then he shuts the door behind him, probably disgusted by this newfound vulnerability.


	3. Chapter 3: When we were little

Chapter 3: the reality of mental illness

Gale finds me in the bathroom screaming at the wall. He said he must have walked in on me having a flashback. He gets mad at Madge for leaving me alone even though we both know it's not her fault. It's his fault. This is one thing I've learned from the therapists. I have to stop putting the blame on myself and start putting it on the attacker. Only what if I haven't truly decided that he was an attacker? It's like I can't accept it or something. Almost like, as disgusted as it makes me, like I'm trying to protect him or something.

I have a court date in a week where I will have to see my attacker, Peeta Mellark, once again. And I will have to testify against him.

In therapy today, we went back in time.

"Okay Katniss, take me back to when you first met Peeta. What was he like? How old were you?"

"I was seven. He was sweet, but hard to make friends with at first. Withdrawn. Cold. Aloof. But when I could make him smile...or laugh... it felt like the biggest reward. It was like he was meant to be happy but something in his life was holding that back for him."

"Okay. Where did you meet?"

"He was sitting by himself under a tree. He had a scar on his cheek. Looked so...beaten down and sad. I just wanted to nurse him back to health like my sister Prim did with her pet animals. But I couldn't fix him... I couldn't."

A tear started to slip down my cheek.

"That's okay, Katniss. Keep going."

"Okay...I went over to talk to him. He wouldn't say much. There was a pig pen nearby. Pigs playing in the mud. I wanted to make him laugh so bad... so I went and rolled around in the mud with the pugs. Gave a big splash in the biggest puddle I could find, then I snorted like a real pig. Then he finally smiled and started to laugh and oh, it was the best thing ever. I was so tired of seeing that sad look on his face."

"So this is the first day you met Peeta?"

"Oh, no I suppose it wasn't. It was just the first day I felt like I really knew him. He was a boy from school, who lived with the more well to do rich people. My family was poor. But he had a big crush on me, was always leaving cheese buns or cookies in the shape of hearts at our doorstep. It drove me so crazy that once I followed him home with one of his cheese buns in my hand, and shot an arrow through it so it was pinned to the tree. I would've done it with the heart shaped cookies but those would just crumble and they wouldn't pierce too well. The cheese bun pinned to the tree by my arrow really drove the point home though. Because then rumors around the school circulated. That he was madly in love with me and that I was out to kill him. Crazy crazy rumors. Kids were really just teasing us though. Being overly dramatic. But they would make up stupid things to say. Like 'What's wrong Katniss? Why don't you like Peeta? Is he just too cheesy for you? Or is he too sweet?' And then they would throw cheese buns and sugar cookies at my head. That really made me hate poor old Peeta."

I started to laugh at this point in the story. It was a nice change from the crying.

I went on. "Poor Peeta looked at me all rueful looking. I knew he felt bad, but he still drove me so crazy! I got up and stomped over to him and told him he needed to get over his little crush or else. I said this while jabbing my finger into his chest. His big blue eyes widened as big as saucers. And then I ran all the way home. Later that day though, on my way to the woods, I heard yelling and screaming coming from the bakery. I could make out the shadow of silouettes from where I peeked behind a tree. I saw raise her rolling pin and hit Peeta with it. 'Stupid boy! Liking that seam trash!' She said to him. I guess the rumors had spread to the Mellark home. It's not like there was anybody that didn't know about it though. And I'm sure Peeta's brothers picked on him about it."

"So was this the day you met him under the tree?"

"No, I didn't find him that way until weeks later. The beatings kept getting worse and worse. I didn't know how to talk to him, but I knew I had to. After how horrible I was to him. I just didn't understand why he would like someone like me."

"So were you and me Peeta friends after that day under the tree?"

"He was more than that. I can honestly say he was my best friend. But something drove us apart."

"And what was that?"

"I think there was more than just physical abuse going on in that home. Like somebody was maybe sexually abusing him or something. He just seemed so damaged. I just couldn't figure out who did that to him or why. I've never understood sexual abuse."

"Never Katniss? Are you sure about that?"

"Why yes, what ever do you mean?"

"Well I mean, you do realize Peeta Mellark sexually abused you in Room 112 for an uncertain amount of days. And yet you have this sympathy - "

The doctor is cut off by my screams as I lunge in fury towards him, digging my nails in his face until he bleeds.

Somebody starts to take me off of as I still scream, throwing a fit. My throat is raw and there is blood under my fingernails as I fling my arms and legs around. Hysterical. And then black spots fill up my vision until I lose complete consciousness.


End file.
